To the station with a suitcase in my hand

So I am hanging out in the train station in Sacramento, waiting for the starlite coast to take me on the first leg of my trip up to Portland. I'm killing some time, playing some poker over my blackberry/laptop connection. It's all working great, which is awesome. What is not working great is this shrub in my peripheral vision, which is busting my stones at the moment. A completely innocuous bush, my peripheral vision has decided (repeatedly) that it is either 1. an indian or 2. some kind of knight or medieval guard or something. Maybe I should switch seats.

Anyway I included a couple pictures. One is of the creepy bush. Apparently the camera doesn't quite capture the peripheral creepiness as well as my eyes do. But I think you all get the idea of how creepy the shrub is. If not I have given you some hints as to what I am talking about.

The other is of me hanging out at the train station, decked out in my luckiest shirt (I'm not superstitious), putzing around on the internets.

This is the start of my trip around the country...will it be fun, boring, exciting, lonely, will I meet heaps of new people? Who knows. I'm sure some adjectives will be involved. At the moment I am open to whatever experiences I find out on the tracks. But maybe that will change after 16 hours of the click-a-dee-clack.

One thing I have noticed right away is the ratio of people I consider "my age" (18-29), and people that I consider "elderly" (30+) is greatly skewed toward the elderly. Perhaps this is because the elderly are the only ones that have the patience to deal with Amtrak. Maybe I can learn some patience. Or maybe I will just pull all my hair out.

Oh right, one thing that is definitely on my shopping list when I get to Portland is a flask. Where do you go to buy a flask anyway?